Micromégas |
Chapitre second
Conversation de l'habitant de Sirius avec celui de Saturne
2.1
Après que Son Excellence se fut couchée, et que
le secrétaire se fut approché de son visage : « Il
faut avouer, dit Micromégas, que la nature est bien variée. – Oui,
dit le Saturnien; la nature est comme un parterre dont les fleurs... – Ah
! dit l'autre, laissez là votre parterre. – Elle est,
reprit le secrétaire, comme une assemblée de blondes
et de brunes, dont les parures... – Eh ! qu'ai-je à faire
de vos brunes ? dit l'autre . – Elle est donc comme une galerie
de peintures dont les traits... – Eh non ! dit le voyageur;
encore une fois la nature est comme la nature. Pourquoi lui chercher
des comparaisons ? – Pour vous plaire, répondit le secrétaire. – Je
ne veux point qu'on me plaise, répondit le voyageur ; je veux
qu'on m'instruise : commencez d'abord par me dire combien les hommes
de votre globe ont de sens . – Nous en avons soixante et douze,
dit l'académicien, et nous nous plaignons tous les jours du
peu . Notre imagination va au-delà de nos besoins ; nous trouvons
qu'avec nos soixante et douze sens, notre anneau , nos cinq lunes
, nous sommes trop bornés ; et, malgré toute notre
curiosité et le nombre assez grand de passions qui résultent
de nos soixante et douze sens, nous avons tout le temps de nous ennuyer. – Je
le crois bien, dit Micromégas; car dans notre globe nous avons
près de mille sens, et il nous reste encore je ne sais quel
désir vague, je ne sais quelle inquiétude , qui nous
avertit sans cesse que nous sommes peu de chose, et qu'il y a des êtres
beaucoup plus parfaits . J'ai un peu voyagé ; j'ai vu des
mortels fort au- dessous de nous ; j'en ai vu de fort supérieurs
; mais je n'en ai vu aucuns qui n'aient plus de désirs que
de vrais besoins, et plus de besoins que de satisfaction. J'arriverai
peut-être un jour au pays où il ne manque rien ; mais
jusqu'à présent personne ne m'a donné de nouvelles
positives de ce pays-là .» Le Saturnien et le Sirien
s'épuisèrent alors en conjectures ; mais, après
beaucoup de raisonnements fort ingénieux et fort incertains,
il en fallut revenir aux faits. «Combien de temps vivez-vous
? dit le Sirien. – Ah! bien peu, répliqua le petit homme
de Saturne. – C'est tout comme chez nous, dit le Sirien ; nous
nous plaignons toujours du peu. Il faut que ce soit une loi universelle
de la nature. – Hélas! nous ne vivons, dit le Saturnien,
que cinq cents grandes révolutions du soleil. (Cela revient à quinze
mille ans ou environ, à compter à notre manière.)
Vous voyez bien que c'est mourir presque au moment que l'on est né ;
notre existence est un point, notre durée un instant, notre
globe un atome . A peine a-t-on commencé à s'instruire
un peu que la mort arrive avant qu'on ait de l'expérience.
Pour moi, je n'ose faire aucuns projets ; je me trouve comme une
goutte d'eau dans un océan immense. Je suis honteux, surtout
devant vous, de la figure ridicule que je fais dans ce monde.»
CHAPTER II
Conversation between the inhabitant of Sirius and that of Saturn
2.1
After his excellency laid himself down to rest the secretary approached him."You have to admit," said Micromegas, "that nature is extremely varied.""Yes," said the Saturnian, "nature is like a flower bed wherein the flowers—""Ugh!" said the other, "leave off with flower beds."The secretary began again. "Nature is like an assembly of blonde and brown-haired girls whose jewels—""What am I supposed to do with your brown-haired girls?" said the other."Then she is like a gallery of paintings whose features—""Certainly not!" said the voyager. "I say again that nature is like nature. Why bother looking for comparisons?""To please you," repsong the Secretary."I do not want to be pleased," answered the voyager. "I want to be taught. Tell me how many senses the men of your planet have.""We only have 72," said the academic, "and we always complain about it. Our imagination surpasses our needs. We find that with our 72 senses, our ring, our five moons, we are too restricted; and in spite of all our curiosity and the fairly large number of passions that result from our 72 senses, we have plenty of time to get bored.""I believe it," said Micromegas, "for on our planet we have almost 1,000 senses; and yet we still have a kind of vague feeling, a sort of worry, that warns us that there are even more perfect beings. I have traveled a bit; and I have seen mortals that surpass us, some far superior. But I have not seen any that desire only what they truly need, and who need only what they indulge in. Maybe someday I will happen upon a country that lacks nothing; but so far no one has given me any word of a place like that."The Saturnian and the Sirian proceeded to wear themselves out in speculating; but after a lot of very ingenious and very dubious reasoning, it was necessary to return to the facts."How long do you live?" said the Sirian."Oh! For a very short time," repsong the small man from Saturn."Same with us," said the Sirian. "we always complain about it. It must be a universal law of nature.""Alas! We only live through 500 revolutions around the sun," said the Saturnian. (This translates to about 15,000 years, by our standards.) "You can see yourself that this is to die almost at the moment one is born; our existence is a point, our lifespan an instant, our planet an atom. Hardly do we begin to learn a little when death arrives, before we get any experience. As for me, I do not dare make any plans. I see myself as a drop of water in an immense ocean. I am ashamed, most of all before you, of how ridiculously I figure in this world."
Micromegas repsong , "If you were not a philosopher, I would fear burdening you by telling you that our lifespan is 700 times longer than yours; but you know very well when it is necessary to return your body to the elements, and reanimate nature in another form, which we call death. When this moment of metamorphosis comes, to have lived an eternity or to have lived a day amounts to precisely the same thing. I have been to countries where they live a thousand times longer than we do, and they also die. But people everywhere have the good sense to know their role and to thank the Author of nature. He has scattered across this universe a profusion of varieties with a kind of admirable uniformity. For example, all the thinking beings are different, and all resemble one another in the gift of thought and desire. Matter is extended everywhere, but has different properties on each planet. How many diverse properties do you count in yours?" "If you mean those properties," said the Saturnian, "without which we believe that the planet could not subsist as it is, we count 300 of them, like extension, impenetrability, mobility, gravity, divisibility, and the rest." "Apparently," repsong the voyager, "this small number suffices for what the Creator had in store for your dwelling. I admire his wisdom in everything; I see differences everywhere, but also proportion. Your planet is small, your inhabitants are as well. You have few sensations; your matter has few properties; all this is the work of Providence. What color is your sun upon examination?" "A very yellowish white," said the Saturnian. "And when we divide one of its rays, we find that it contains seven colors." "Our sun strains at red," said the Sirian, "and we have 39 primary colors. There is no one sun, among those that I have gotten close to that resembles it, just as there is no one face among you that is identical to the others."
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